Indie
by Unsaid Goodbyes
Summary: Indie—a genre or not? That's your choice. This is Bella and Edward's choice. Based on an actual argument. OOC, AU/AH. M for language.


A/N: Hey people. It's been a long time. I do have reasons why I haven't been writing though. For one, I've had a shitload of exams, and I was paranoid I'd fail them if I focussed too much attention on writing. So I stopped. Second, just when I was about to get into the groove of writing again, I had to do the hardest thing ever and break up with my boyfriend. I cannot say how much it hurt me, and being already depressed, I couldn't do much for the first few days. I'm truly sorry. This is an actual argument that happened between me and my good friend Edson, for your entertainment. Here you go...

Summary: Indie—a genre or not? That's your choice. This is Bella and Edward's choice. Based on an actual argument. OOC, AU/AH. M for language.

**Title: **Indie

**Rating: **M

**Author: **Breathless Tomb

One-Shot

**3****rd**** Person's POV**

Cue the lights.  
Stage one.  
Actors in place.  
Spotlight please.  
And now our feature presentation.

Bella Swan returned to her table holding two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, placing one beside her laptop, and one beside Edward's. The twenty-something year old man was furiously typing away at his Mac, desperately trying to finish up his paper for his music theory course. He'd procrastinated for the past week, and the essay was now due within the next two days. Bella, fortunately, did not have any rushing of the sort to do, so she basked in the glory of seeing her best friend sweating profusely as he typed away.

"One vanilla bean hot cocoa, freshly brewed," She chimed, placing it next to him. Understandably, he ignored it. Bella took a seat, taking a short sip of her hot chocolate, before pulling her iPod earphones out and plugging them into her computer. She shoved one earphone into her ear before snorting as Edward took a rather large gulp of hot chocolate, then hissed as it singed his tongue.

"Fuck," He cursed, wiping his tongue on his sleeve. Bella wrinkled her nose.

"Lovely."

He shrugged and went back to typing, effectively ignoring the diminutive brunette. Heaving a sigh, the girl clicked open her iTunes, scrolling through her music until she found the song of her mood's choosing. The café was filled with the light chattering of the patrons and the wispy music from the speakers on the ceiling. Nothing too impressive, or too unfamiliar. Bella took another sip. Edward copied her actions, hitherto typing zealously.

Edward suddenly paused and directed his attention to the brunette girl, "Yo, Bella. What do you think the purpose of a stage name is?" To the oblivious bystander, it seemed like an everyday question, but Bella knew it to be baiting.

"Fuck if I know?" She quipped, placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her interlocked hands, staring at her friend across the table, "You're the music-dude-guy. I know shit on that subject."

The boy ran a hand through his rusted-metal-coloured hair, "If I'm ever in a band, my stage name will be Maze E." Bella nodded.

"Sure. Either way, I like it. It's you." Her iTunes flipped to the next song. Edward lifted an eyebrow.

"Do you really? Or do you think it's dumb?"

Shaking her head vehemently, Bella's lips quirked up into a half-Cheshire smile, "No, no, no. I actually adore it. It's great."

"I think I'll be the bass player. And I'll do the _'oohhh's_ and _'yeahh's_ and _'ahhh's_." He squinted his eyes tightly and sang each of the sounds, earning himself quite a few amused glances. Whether he noticed the looks or not was a mystery, as he didn't remark on them. At this point, he'd long since stopped typing, allowing the procrastination to reclaim him.

"The one who does the awesome slouching thing?" The girl asked, both of her eyebrows shooting up, "Umm...YEAH."

Edward nodded and a pensive expression clouded his features momentarily. "You know, bass players are the most important thing to music." Another nod from his female counterpart.

"They really are."

He digressed, "And drum players too. They keep the rhythm. Both of them. The guitar is for 'flashy flashy'. It's not necessary; and singing either."

"I love singing..." Bella said dreamily, taking another sip of her hot cocoa, the frothy liquid gathering together on her upper lift. Edward stifled a laugh. "But guitar is cool too. Just overrated." She clicked a button on her iTunes to put the music playlist on _shuffle_.

"Well, to have rock, you need a guitar—and rock is the best type of music. It and _all_ of its subgenres."

"I like indie," Bella muttered, seeing her reflection in the multicoloured screen of her laptop, taking her napkin and wiping her milk moustache off.

Edward continued on as if she hadn't spoken, "Especially alternative and experimental—" He finally realized her words and frowned, "Indie just means that a band isn't popular."

She nodded, "I know. It means independent. But it's also kind of a genre." Still occupied with her fleeting moment of lack of finesse, she peeked around the café to see if anyone had seen her blunder. Thankfully, none of the regulars seemed to be paying attention to the two college students. Bella found this odd, considering that Edward attracted looks wherever he went without a miss.

"So an indie band, can be hard rock or alternative or electric or pop or whatever."

Biting her lip, Bella shrugged a thin shoulder, "It can also be a genre. The soft, jazzy-almost kind." She made flowing motions with her free hand—the one not holding her hot chocolate mug.

"Not really. It just puts a bunch of artists in one bag. Green Day was indie at the start," The boy said, shaking his head as if in disappointment to her lack of musical knowledge.

"No, no, no, Green Day isn't indie. At least, not if what they're playing now is what they played back then."

"Nirvana was indie at the start too," He pointed out.

Her natural sighs turned exasperated now, "Indie would be like…Mozella." She scrolled through her list of artists on her computer, stopping when she found the singer in question, as if trying to prove her own point to herself.

"The White Stripes are indie. Jack White has his own record company with which he releases his band's albums. So, he's indie," Edward pushed, taking another long gulp from his mug.

"I meant the genre, not independent music itself. The way most people perceive indie is with a voice and music, like Mozella."

"It's incorrect to say indie. You like alternative rock bands," He snapped. Realizing he still had a document opened on his computer, he quickly saved and shut it, giving his complete attention to the argument.

"When people say 'indie', they mean that. Not alternative rock, or just alternative." Bella was still adding on to her earlier sentence. As she was talking, Edward started typing and clicking on his computer.

"It's alternative, all those non-popular small bands you like. They fall in the alternative category. And I don't know who Mozella is, but I just Wikipedia-ed this bitch, and here it says she has a pop/soul sound. Not indie." Smug smile dancing on his lips.

"They don't actually use the word 'indie' because it's not a proper genre, but it's recognized by people around the world." Another smug smile by the counterpart.

"Or confused short, quarter-Irish girls, more specifically," He mumbled, bringing her heritage into the argument now. Much more personal. Bella smirked.

"You're just mad because I'm right. Don't insult me."

"But I'm not." Referring to him insulting her, "When you say, 'I'm into the more indie stuff', you're talking about lesser known bands, which is incorrect to say, because most of them are signed with big companies."

"I don't mean lesser known bands, I mean the genre itself! Not independent." Bella was beginning to get annoyed, no longer taking any drinks from her hot chocolate. She noticed a few eyes on them, but tried not to blush under the newfound attention.

"Exactly." _Point finale._

"The sound—the indie sound," She pushed back.

He face-palmed. "That's what people say because they're stupid. Indie is not a genre, it's independent music, and people incorrectly say it to describe lesser known bands that they like that have a more mellow sound. More ambient, I like to call it. Because it makes you feel infinite."

"Indie is not a proper genre," Bella stressed futilely, "It's a genre that people have come to terms with. Because, if you say it, people understand. It's not just me. Alice would understand too." Referring to their mutual friend, "It's not a lesser known band. It's that sound. The mellow one that sort of flows."

"But that mellow sound _has_ a genre. Its alternative; not indie. But idiots, say indie, because they are retards. But that's the way it is; they are no _real_ indie bands anymore."

"No, alternative usually has a sort of rougher tone, not so smooth." A new song blared from her earphones.

"It is that?" Referring to her music playing.

"It's a simpler and tamer version of rock, but not soft, and it doesn't have that mellow quality." Every time she said _'mellow quality'_, she made the same flowing motions with her hand, as if trying to stress her point even further.

Thoughtfully, he reiterated, "That's what alternative means—something different to but resembles rock. I think it's called, ambient rock."

"But not the mellow sound of indie."

Edward lost his carefully formed patience, "It's not a fucking genre."

"It's not a proper genre. It's just recognizable to many, many people."

He clenched his teeth and growled out, "No, to idiots who don't know the difference between a crocodile and an alligator." A frightened looking waitress came over, looking wide eyed between the fuming Edward and sneering Bella.

"Umm..." She stuttered hesitantly, "You've both been here an hour and a half, and I wanted to know if you wanted anything more to drink or eat. Or else you're going to have to leave. It's a busy day." She nodded towards the line at the cash. Bella lost the sneer momentarily and flashed the ginger waitress a brilliant smile.

"Do you have any caprice? And my friend here will have a pistachio biscotti." She nodded at Edward, who was too angry to speak rationally. The waitress—who was most likely named Tracy, judging by her nametag—nodded at the first part.

"Yeah, we got that. In a little packet." She made a small square shape with her hands, "I'll be right back." Turning with a swish of her skirt, she left the two. Bella turned back to Edward slowly and spoke up.

"See, again you're being rude and insulting just because I'm making some valid points."

He barked a laugh, "You're really not. I mean, you are saying that Judaism and Catholicism are the same shit basically."

"I said nothing of the sort." She was a little offended by his words, and slightly perturbed, "I said 'indie'—while not being a proper genre—, is recognized by people, by that smooth, mellow sound. That's not classified into rock or alternative, which are rougher and slightly heavier."

"Okay, I'll break it down. They call bands that have this sound 'indie', but the sound itself is not called indie. It's incorrect to call them indie bands, because since the nineties, no band has been completely independent, and that's what indie means." Livid. Our actor is now livid—the boy in the cobalt button-up shirt and black Vans.

"Indie does originally mean independent," She conceded, "But _indie_—while not being a _proper_ genre—is how people perceive the sound if you show someone a song by like...Melpo Mene and then ask the genre. They'll say, 'Oh, it's indie'. They're not going to say, 'Oh, well that's a mix of pop and soul with a bit of alternative'. No. It's a mix, and that in itself, people call 'indie' while it is not independent like the name. It's the sound and the name people give it."

"Oh fuck damn it," He snarled, slamming a fist on the table, causing several people in the café to jump, "Anything that isn't pop or isn't rock or isn't metal is alternative, hence the title alternative. Fuck. What's its face? Radiohead is alternative. Coldplay is alternative. U2 is alternative. Vampire Weekend is alternative. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are alternative. The Bravery is alternative. Anything that isn't raw rock and roll, or electronic, or rap, or pop, is alternative."

At that moment, Tracy returned with two plates holding their food, eyeing Edward distrustfully and placing the plate in front of him. _Angry kid,_ her eyes said. She handed the second plate to Bella, where the bag of caprice was ripped open and spread out carefully over the plate. Bella beamed and dug into her wallet to pull out a ten, telling her to, "Keep the change."

"Yeah, they are. They don't have that soft quality. It's rougher slightly. It doesn't have an 'airy' quality to it. It's a specific quality that is subtle in the song," She said, repeating her point again, not coming up with anything better than just what she was saying. No originality in her script.

"Fuck, God damn it. These _'indie bands'_," He put air quotes around the two words, "Should be called alternative bands."

"Stop swearing, you seem like an arrogant prick."

"Well, I'm talking to a hard-headed child."

Our actress in the jeans and Busted-Tee's-shirt delicately picked up a caprice, taking a measured bite into it, praying the entire thing wouldn't crumble to dust. It didn't. "Well at least I'm not flipping out. That's the point of debates."

"Okay, I'll calm down," He agreed, taking a deep breath, "Name a few of these 'indie' musicians?"

She perked up, "Okay I will. Let me get my iPod." Just as she was about to dig into her bag for hr iPod though, she sent Edward a link through MSN that she'd been just looking at, "Wait, check this link out. See, you're right it means independent, but the lines between being independent and the sound perceived with it, are blurred."

"A lot, because emo bands are indie. Hardcore bands can be indie." _Stubborn boy._

"As in, independent. But the music itself, the sound and the voice can be described in the sense that people are now getting accustom to. It's not something that's official, like an official genre, but it's what people know." _Stubborn girl._

"No, it's what you seem to know. I mean, people say Phoenix and Grizzly Bear are indie, right? And they also say Death Cab for Cutie is indie, and Jimmy Eat World, and Radiohead, but they do not have a similar sound. They don't call it indie rock. I know what sound you mean; I prefer to call it, atmospheric rock. Because indie is incorrect on so many levels." He picked up the biscotti and took a jagged bite into it.

"But you see, the thing is, I get it. 'Indie' doesn't actually exist. It's a made up thing that people just say, but, if I were to say 'atmospheric rock' or 'pop-soul with a bit of alternative', people wouldn't really get it. It's just what people associate it with. It's engrained in them."

"It's not engrained in them," He said, deadpanned.

"Well I seriously doubt anyone will call it pop-soul," She snapped, losing her temper as he'd long done, "They'll just say, 'Yeah, I like indie'."

"Because 'people' is not the four fuckers you hang out with. '_People'_ is everyone," He said, referring to Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie, who _he_ too, hung out with.

"And I read a lot, dude. That's where I know." Referring to _her_ being in English Lit.

"And not everyone will know, because not everyone listens to it."

"Well, not people who are so adamant about it. Like you."

"I feel like punching a baby, talking to you."

"See, again with the violence and anger."

"It's not violence."

"Yet." She motioned to his laptop, "Don't you have an essay to do?"

"Fuck you."

End of scene.  
Curtains close.  
Thank you for coming.

A/N: There you go. I hope you enjoyed that mindless little thing. I kind of liked the idea to referring to it as if it were a sort of play. Oh, by the way, Busted Tee's is a great shirt website. I buy my shirts from there sometimes. Check it out. Tell me what you think in a review? I hope you do. I need some uplifting. And that's not me grovelling.

Much.

Thank you for reading. I should have the next chapter of **Change Of Heart** up soon.

-Breathless Tomb-


End file.
